The Congo Rovers | Page 2

the door of Mr Shears' establishment
was to hasten off to the dockyard at top speed to take another look at
the Daphne. I had often seen the craft before; had taken an interest in
her, indeed, I may say, from the moment that her keel was laid--she
was built in Portsmouth dockyard--and had watched her progress to
completion and her recent launch with an admiration which had
steadily increased until it grew into positive love. And now I was
actually to have the happiness, the bliss, of going to sea in her as an
officer on her first cruise. Ecstatic thought! I felt as though I was
walking on air!
But my rapture received a pretty effectual damper when I reflected--as I
soon did--that my obstinate determination to go to sea must certainly
prove a deep disappointment, if not a source of constant and cruel
anxiety, to my father. Dear old dad! his most cherished wish, as I knew
full well, had long been that I, his only son, might qualify myself to
take over and carry on the exceedingly snug practice he had built up,
when the pressure of increasing years should render his retirement
desirable. But the idea was so utterly distasteful to me that I had
persistently turned a deaf ear to all his arguments, persuasions, ay, and
even his entreaties. Unfortunately, perhaps, for the fulfilment of his
desires, I was born and brought up at Portsmouth; and all my earliest
recollections of amusement are, in some way or other, connected with
salt water. Swimming and boating early became absolute passions with
me; I was never quite happy unless I happened to be either in or on the
water; then, indeed, all other pleasures were less than nothing to me. As
a natural consequence, I soon became the intimate companion of every
boatman in the harbour; I acquired, to a considerable extent, their tastes

and prejudices, and soon mastered all the nautical lore which it was in
their power to teach me. I could sail a boat before I could read; and by
the time that I had learned to write, was able to hand, reef, and steer
with the best of them. My conversation--except when it was addressed
to my father--was copiously interlarded with nautical phrases; and by
the time I had attained the age of fourteen--at which period this history
begins--I was not only acquainted with the name, place, and use of
every rope and spar in a ship, but I had also an accurate knowledge of
the various rigs, and a distinct opinion as to what constituted a good
model. The astute reader will have gathered from this confession that I
was, from my earliest childhood, left pretty much my own master; and
such was in fact the case. My mother died in giving birth to my only
sister Eva (two years my junior); a misfortune which, in consequence
of my father's absorption in the duties of his practice, left me entirely to
the care of the servants, by whom I was shamefully neglected. But for
this I should doubtless have been trained to obedience and a respectful
deference to my father's wishes. The mischief, however, was done; I
had acquired a love of the sea, and my highest ambition was to become
a naval officer. This fact my father at length reluctantly recognised, and
by persistent entreaty I finally prevailed upon him to take the necessary
steps to gratify my heart's desire--with the result already known to the
reader.
The sombre reflections induced by the thought of my father's
disappointment did not, I confess with shame, last long. They vanished
as a morning mist is dissipated before the rising sun, when I recalled to
mind that I was not only going to sea, but that I was actually going to
sail in the Daphne. This particular craft was my beau-ideal of what a
ship ought to be; and in this opinion I was by no means alone-- all my
cronies hailing from the Hard agreeing, without exception, that she was
far and away the handsomest and most perfect model they had ever
seen. My admiration of her was unbounded; and on the day of her
launch--upon which occasion I cheered myself hoarse--I felt, as I saw
her gliding swiftly and gracefully down the ways, that it would be a
priceless privilege to sail in her, even in the capacity of the meanest
ship-boy. And now I was to be a midshipman on board her! I hurried
onward with swift and impatient steps, and soon passed through the

dockyard gates--having long ago, by dint of persistent coaxing, gained
the entree to the sacred precincts--when a walk of some four or five
hundred yards further took me to the berth alongside the wharf where
she was